


im gay

by asshole



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, also i didn't read over this so forgive mistakes :'), im gay, this is a vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 08:26:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2615054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asshole/pseuds/asshole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>oikawa is a fuckingf loser</p>
            </blockquote>





	im gay

**Author's Note:**

> fuck

 

The clock reads 1:14 AM, and it claws at him.

  
( Oikawa Tooru is many things, descriptor upon many being:

scared. )

 

It is the way the trees swing eerily in the middle of the night accompanied by chilling rain. It is the way that he is unprotected from danger while curled in blankets.

 

 **1** : **17** AM.

( Oikawa Tooru is many things, where would one begin to describe him? It's as if he'd unraveled a parallel to the _Incompleteness Theory_ , a new law in motion describing that he cannot be solved no matter who tries to fix him. It's desperate. Hopeless.

  
There's no point in attempting to making him feel as though he could hold the world by himself. )

 

 **1** : **18** AM.

( Yet, still, there's one who tries. Tries despite Oikawa lashing out and stomping on multiple occasions. Tries because he loves him ( _maybe_ ). Tries because leaving Oikawa Tooru alone would be akin to witnessing a supernova ( _probably_ ).

Oikawa Tooru is vain. Vain; condescending. He believes he always knows what's best, he always has. Regardless to what hypocrisy his advice to others may pose, he knows how exactly to lighten the atmopshere. He is both the storm and the umbrella, waiting for a sun.

Someone to lift the sky above him, rather. To eradicate the clouds that hide the light beneath. )

 

 **1** : **21** AM.

It's still. Cold. The temperature had fallen below 40 as of late, much to his disdain. His collection of scarves, coats, mittens, this & that, were no less than pitiful. It barely keeps him sustained when waiting after school, trying desperately to shield himself from the cold only to be met with frost stabbing his skin to numbness.

 

 **1** : **23** AM.

( It's only a few hours until he has to be up for school and he has too much swarming his mind to be able to get proper rest. Disconcerted because he is alone in his house for tonight due to his parents going out to yet another party, disconcerted because who would protect him if an intruder were to come in? What if a ghost were to haunt him? How can he fend these sort of things alone?

It's near impossible. He laughs, a dry sound that startles even himself for a moment. )

 

 **1** : **27** AM.

He should be asleep. He can't quite bring himself to turn his phone off, can't quite resist the rays emitting from his laptop. Light has always been a source of comfort, darkness only bringing him uncertainty and fear that swallowed him whole.

( Insecurities tug at him at the most inappropriate hours. A test was tomorrow, a notebook check, bits & pieces of what's expected of him eating at him slowly as he recalls. Grades had been deteriorating, him not being entirely sure if he cares to keep it in-tact.

Oikawa used to care wholly of being of the best, but that hope, whatever of it remained, had been locked away ever since he'd accepted all along that he was not a genius, prodigy, one-in-a-million. Not someone who could make potential flare out, not someone who

is good enough. Not someone who can meet every expectation given to him. Not someone who could become the best — _be_ the best, let alone. )

 

 **1** : **32** AM.

Day after day.

It continues like this.

( Sometimes, just _sometimes_ , he wishes expectations were lifted off of him. Sometimes, just _sometimes_ , he wishes he could be free of all responsibility and nothing more to stress about.

Sometimes — only _sometimes_ , mind you  
he wishes he were never born if it meant he couldn't be #1. )

 

 **1** : **35** AM.

He taps through his phone, aimlessly, looking through his blog, feeds, notifications. Anything distracting at all could help, really. There's nothing else to do when it's past midnight on a weekday & everyone's comfortably drifted off into their dreams. There's nothing else to do when everyone has everything in order and all he can describe himself at best is a mix of contradictions, the same contradictions coming to stab him in the back at ungodly hours of the night.

( He's an enigma. Falls asleep at the drop of a hat if others are around, paranoia digging deep within him & choking him if there's no one but himself. )

 

 **1** : **41** AM.

It's so boring.

  
Honestly. It's so boring to sit here and contemplate every knick & cranny wrong with  
yourself when it's able to be 2:00 AM (just four hours from school time, wow, good going).

 

 **1** : **42** AM.

( Maybe there's someone whose intentions aren't muddled, though. Maybe there's someone whose ideals for him are not to gain from him, but for him to gain. )

He taps the home button on his phone & lightly places his finger on ' _Contacts_ ', scrolling down to a name that's snugly fit into the 'I' section of his directory. He touches the call button next to it, waiting.

 

 **1** : **44** AM.

 The 'I' in question picks up with a few persistent calls in succession, sleep presumably getting the best  of him right now, Oikawa thinks, he's never been that smart when he's in his cranky state of awakening, has he?

The ace on the other end of the line has a good idea of who would actually call him at such an ungodly hour on a Friday of all days. A sigh is heard, followed by soft rustling that's faint to the ear, unnoticeable if he hadn't been listening closely.

 

 **1** : **47** AM.

"How many times have I told you," Iwaizumi says, "to not think of useless stuff like that, Oikawa."

 

 **1** : **48** AM.

"Not enough, maybe."

 

 **2** : **10** AM.

( Oikawa had always found pleasure in knowing that there are 60 seconds in one minute, time progresses, time does not stop. The very same satisfaction of that knowledge also gave him dread, worry, impending karma to work its way to him eventually, of _course_.

He's quiet. Iwaizumi fills the gap, talking about anything & everything while Oikawa gives the occasional hum.

He doesn't need to ramble on nor give explanation on his thoughts, nothing that will make him force out unpleasantness, nothing that he has to choke out with venom laced in his tone. It's a comfortable feeling, letting Iwaizumi become his diary; a safe place, reminding him of sleep eye rheum, and

he must have some something very amazing to gain the loyalty of such a person. )

 

 **2** : **14** AM.

He falls asleep, with clarification that, possibly,

he doesn't necessarily have to be the best.

 


End file.
